


Sick Day

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Age Reversal, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick is Sick, Gen, strep throat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: It's Dick's first time being sick since his parents died. Luckily his new family knows how to take care of him. Age reversal AU.





	Sick Day

“Dami, I’m cold,” Dick muttered and curled up to his older brother. It had taken some convincing. Dami never liked people to be too close to him, especially when he was sleeping. But Dick had complained that his head hurt (and it really, really did!) and that he didn’t feel good (he really, really didn’t), and Dami had agreed to let Dick sleep in his room (but only for one night, or so help him…).

“You are under four blankets and a comforter,” Dami muttered, his voice still sleepy-sounding. “You are not cold.” Dick huffed in response. What did Dami know anyway? Dami wasn’t the one in Dick’s body. Maybe Alfred just had the air conditioner on too high. Dick never did trust that thing. He huffed again when Dami didn’t respond and curled up closer to his brother.

He frowned when Dami turned around onto his side and pressed the back of his hand against Dick’s forehead, just like his mom used to do when he was even littler. “You are burning up,” Dami sighed and pinched his nose. “I will go get Father,” he added, and Dick made a noise of protest when Dami got up and headed for the door. “Stay here.”

Dick sighed and fell back against the pillows, pulling the blankets back up over his shoulders. His head still hurt and he was freezing cold and he felt like he was swallowing something sharp and pointy. He’d known a sword-swallower back at the circus. Didn’t it hurt? he’d asked the man, and his dad had told him not to be rude, but really he wasn’t _trying_ to be rude, he just wanted to know how it didn’t hurt.

He was thirsty, but Dami had told him to stay put… But what did Dami know anyway? He kicked the blankets off and padded across the room, ducking out of the door and down the stairs. His mom would have made him some tea and put some honey in it and tell him that the secret ingredient was love. He wondered if Alfred could make tea as good as she had.

“Ah, Master Dick,” Alfred smiled, and Dick tried not to glare when the older man knelt down to his level. “Master Damian said you weren’t feeling well.” 

And Dick sniffed and crossed his arms and followed Alfred to the kitchen. Dami was supposed to tell Bruce, not Alfred. Bruce wouldn’t make him go to the doctor like Alfred would. He made a face when Alfred put the temperature-checker in his ear and breathed a sigh of relief when it finally beeped. “101,” Alfred sighed. “We are definitely going to the doctor.”

Oh well. 

At least doctor meant he would get to stay home from school.

* * *

His throat was bright red, the doctor had said. Well of course it was. Throats were supposed to be red. He’d rolled his eyes and Alfred had told him to mind his manners, and the doctor had given him a shot in the arm and he didn’t even cry (okay, maybe he cried a little, but he was going to tell Jason he didn’t because Jason never cried at the doctor).

“God, don’t breathe on me,” Tim had groaned when Dick had walked into the living room, popsicle in hand. Man, he must have been really sick if Alfred was letting him eat something so messy in there. 

Dick stuck his tongue out and sat down on the couch. “Can we watch cartoons?”

“No,” Tim responded and held the remote tighter in his hand.

“But I’m sick,” Dick whined and sniffed. He’d never been sick before, at least not since moving into the manor with Bruce and his new brothers and sister. When he was littler, it seemed like he got sick all the time. But his mom and dad always knew what to do. He sniffed again and tried not to think about them. 

“Fine,” Tim sighed and Dick watched the screen change from a grown-up show to the cartoons he’d asked for. “Dami’s downstairs.”

“Alfred said I can’t go ‘til I’m better,” Dick responded before going silent, watching the television and eating his popsicle. He even said ‘Thank you,’ like Alfred would have wanted him to when Tim threw a blanket over top of him.

* * *

The best part of not going to school was that he didn’t have to do homework. And that best part of not being in school was ruined when Jason came home with extra folders in his backpack that Dick’s teachers had sent home with him. “Not fair,” he groaned and stared at the worksheets. When would he ever need to know how to do long division anyway?

“You’ll live,” Jason responded and sat down at the table to do his own work. Dick watched him closely. Jason was so smart, one of the smartest people Dick had ever known. “What?” his older brother asked and glanced across the table at him.

“Can you help me with my spelling?” Dick asked.

And Jason had groaned and ran a hand through his hair but had helped Dick just the same. He even taught Dick fun words that he wasn’t supposed to use, at least not in front of Bruce and Alfred. And some he should be careful about around Dami too.

He perked up when he saw Cass step into the dining room from the kitchen. She must have heard he was sick too because she’d brought him the good snacks that Alfred always kept hidden away. He’d smiled and thanked her, and she’d sat with them while Jason taught even more bad words to them.

“Guess what?” he’d asked her excitedly. “I got a shot and I didn’t even cry.” And she had smiled and patted him on the head and listened to him retell the story of his trip to the doctor (and he’d only added a few details, he swore).

“Now go take a nap or something,” Jason had said and shooed Dick away once he’d finished his homework. “If you get me sick, I’ll kill you.” And Dick had rolled his eyes because Jason wouldn’t kill him, at least not really, but had left all the same because he didn’t want to ruin whatever bonding moment they had just finished.

Maybe he should have been sick more often.

* * *

“Hey, chum,” Dick yawned and blinked his eyes open. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, but he’d woken up in his room. Weird. Bruce was sat beside his bed, that stupid temperature-checker in his hand still. “How are you feeling?”

Dick shrugged and curled further into the blankets. He wasn’t nearly as cold as he had been that morning, but everything still hurt like it did when he worked too hard at the trapeze back at the circus, and his head still felt like it wanted to explode.

“Think you’ll be up to go to school tomorrow?” Bruce pressed, and Dick shook his head. He made a face when Bruce leaned down and kissed his forehead (didn’t he know that germs spread?), but smiled when he stepped back. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

And Dick had yawned and argued that he wasn’t sleepy. But his bed was so soft and cozy and his room was nice and dark. “Night, Bruce,” he yawned.

“Night, Dickie,” Bruce had replied and left the room, leaving the door cracked open enough that the hall light shone through (not that he was afraid of the dark, no matter how much Tim teased him about it…). 

He slept through the night.

And just like Bruce had promised, he felt better in the morning.


End file.
